But What We Make
by Bethe
Summary: Would you have believed me?
1. No Fate?

. . .But What We Make

By Bethe

~*~

Disclaimer: I don't own the Terminator. I do, however, own whatever characters came out of my demented little mind.

~*~

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My name is Reese Connor. The life I know has been forced upon me against my will. My father used to say that the future is not set; there is no fate but what we make for ourselves. I hope to God he was right.

~*~

"John, are you listening to me?" Katherine Brewster-Connor stood with her fists planted firmly on her hips. She hesitated a few moments before snapping her fingers. "John?"

Her husband, John Connor, slowly focused his gaze. Without saying a word, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. Katherine, better known as Kate, sighed impatiently.

"Your daughter needs you right now. You may not think it important in the grand scheme of things, but she's just had her heart broken. By one of _your_ soldiers, might I add."

"And what exactly am I supposed to do about that?" John asked, bringing his palms in the air. Kate rolled her eyes.

"Go to her. I've done my best. It's your turn. Show her that you care." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The leader of the Allied Resistance and you can't even maintain relations with your own daughter."

"She's not a little girl anymore, Kate. She can take care of herself."

"You know, you're right," she scoffed. "Reese is not a little girl anymore. She's turning into a beautiful young woman, but she's a woman who needs her father now more than anything." She bit her lip and shook her head slightly. "Do whatever the hell you want, John. You always do. But keep in mind that she is your oldest, your heir. What kind of legacy do you want to leave for her?" With that, Kate walked out of the room, her footsteps echoing on the hard metal floor.

John ran his hand down the front of his face. When did he start becoming his mother? With each day that passed after Judgment Day, Sarah Connor subtly manifested herself in him. He had made himself a promise when Reese was born in that fall-out shelter that he would always make time for her.

Well, when you've got the whole world depending on you, even plans with the best of intentions suffer. 

~*~

__

My father has been a hard-ass for as long as I can remember. Mom said it had something to do with survival. If you're soft, then you're weak. If you're weak, then the Machines have an easy target. And heaven forbid John Connor become an easy target. 

You have to give him credit for all the shit he'd been put through. It's hard to imagine knowing ever since you were young that you would be the most important man in the world. . .after a massive nuclear holocaust, that is. And then there's the whole Terminator thing. That's a mind-blowing trip. 

Sometimes I wonder if he had the chance to really change it all. . .if he had the opportunity to go and destroy CyberDyne before it even got started. . .would he do it? Would he sacrifice the life he knew? His family? His memories? The T-101? 

At times, I think not. And not for the whole power thing. Sometimes, I don't even think he wouldn't do it for me and mom. I think he wants the memories of Terminator. T-101 was the closest thing to a father that he ever had. Sure, he knew who his real father was. . .but somehow that didn't seem to count. Terminator was there during a crucial time in Dad's life. 

The only time I've ever seen him get sentimental was over a damn machine.

~*~

Reese Connor peeked around the corner. Empty. Biting her lip, just like her mother would, she stepped quietly into the corridor and quickly made her way down the length of it. She kept her hand at her hip, her fingers in constant contact with the gun that was always at her side. Her rubber soled boots made no noise. Her medium-length auburn hair swung back and forth with her activity. 

Stopping at another corner, Reese glanced fluidly at either side before making a quick dash to the door. She exited past the sleeping guard after letting the dogs smell her hand. Then she climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch before crawling above ground. She'd made it.

Glancing at her watch, she knew that she had very little time before the HK's made their second round past the barracks. Withdrawing her pistol from its holster, she sprinted for the cover of a downed Machine. Once at her destination, she crouched with her back to the cold, unforgiving metal and waited. After a few moments, she shifted until she could look past her cover. The skies were empty. Counting to three, she pushed herself up with her strong leg muscles and headed for a 1990's model car that she'd spotted in the distance. 

Upon reaching the car, she waited. Right on time, a lone HK hovered in the distance, searching for any human dissidents. Reese, not even winded, maintained a firm grip on her gun and brought it up parallel with her face. She waited until the whirring of the HK was right over her. Then she aimed at its most vulnerable spot: its power source. With Terminator-like precision, she fired four shots in quick succession, then crouched and covered her head with her arms. The resulting explosion wasn't necessarily deafening, but it did leave her ears ringing for a few moments. 

With that threat out of the way, Reese left her cover and started to run as fast as her legs would carry her. She breathed a silent prayer of gratitude for her strenuous training. John had always said she was just like her grandmother. 

~*~

__

I guess when you think about it, the decision was out of my hands, really. It had been made for me a long time ago. The T-101 had told my father on Judgment Day that his children would be important. I didn't want that honor, any of it. So, I took the only viable option left for me.

~*~

"Sir," a massive soldier standing in front of John said, catching his attention.

"Yes?" he asked without even looking up from the reconnaissance documents that had been delivered to him about the Machines' headquarters.

"She's gone, sir."

John looked up questioningly. "Who's gone?" he asked.

The soldier shifted uncomfortably. "Your daughter, sir. She's missing. The guard at the door says he remembers hearing someone go topside, but figured it was one of us needing some air. That was around one A.M."

"Damn it," John breathed, rubbing his face with one hand. "Do you have any idea where she's headed?" When the soldier shifted uncomfortably once more, he pounded the desk with one hand and demanded, "Where?"

"Topside surveillance shows her heading west. Towards the Time-Displacement facility, sir."

John sat back in his chair, the realization sliding into the pit of his stomach like liquid ice. "She's going to try and stop it," he whispered.

"Stop what, sir?"

John looked back at the messenger. "Judgment Day."

~*~

__

All my life I've been told that I would be this great leader someday. Just like your old man, he'd tell me. Bullshit. I may be the offspring of the great John Connor, but I'm no leader. I know Dad thinks I'm going to try to do something heroic, like stop it all from happening. But I don't have the balls to do it. Maybe I can make a life for me other than Reese Connor, daughter of the leader of the Resistance, and granddaughter of the Legend. No fate? I hope so.

~*~

An uncommon occurrence in the arid desert started to happen: a cool wind picked up. The air became dense, almost electric. Then, blue lightening seemed to appear out of nowhere. Thin, jagged fingers licked the air about them. A brilliant flash, and a liquid-like sphere materialized, or grew, rather. Another brilliant flash and the sphere burst, the force of it setting a cactus on fire. A figure, decidedly female, fell to the ground. Upon impact, she let out a cry of pain. 

She slowly rolled into a sit and groaned, bringing her left arm forward to examine it. Shards of petrified ground were embedded into her skin all along her left side. Whimpering, she cautiously got up and made her way to soft ground before she collapsed again. 

After the blinding red haze brought on by the pain had dissipated, she slowly pushed herself up once more and waited until another pain-induced haze had disappeared before tentatively taking a step. That step, however, turned into a stagger. To her own surprise, she kept her balance and remained upright. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the lights she had once seen at a distance were now right in front of her. What during the day must have been a thriving city suburb was, at night, a desolate waste land. Coughing, she staggered across the vacant streets until she found what looked like a home and pounded on the door as hard as her now rubbery arms would allow her.

A bleary-eyed man opened the door, but instantly became alert upon taking in the sight before him. A shivering woman stood in the doorway; naked, bruised, and bleeding. He saw her begin to reel and pitch forward. In one fluid motion, the man caught the stranger and lifted her up, holding her like a child. 

"My God," he whispered before rushing her into his home and gently placing her on the sofa. He brushed her snarled and matted auburn hair from her shockingly pale face. He left her side to fetch a phone. He called 911, told them the necessary details, and abruptly hung up to return to her side. She was still conscious, but barely. "What on earth happened to you?"

~*~

To Be Continued. . .


	2. Meeting Life Head On

. . .But What We Make

by Bethe

~*~

__

To some, my decision to send myself to where the sun shines could be viewed as stupid. There was no way back. Once in the past, it would be impossible to return to the future. But therein lay the appeal. I would be stuck in a world I never knew, yet had always wanted to experience. I could finally live the life that should have been mine.

~*~

Slowly, the woman's eyes blinked, then opened. The dark green orbs moved left to right as if scanning for some intangible threat. She jumped upon seeing a strange man sitting in front of her, seemingly asleep. Then she took in the room more closely, paying attention to every minute detail. She needed to know which ways were best to escape, if necessary.

"I'm not going to hurt you," came a deep but pleasant voice. She turned her eyes back to the man who was previously lost in a slumberly bliss.

"Who are you?" she asked in a calm and crisp voice, slightly monotonous. 

The strange man chuckled nervously and ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Jarod Crane, LAPD. You showed up on my doorstep last night in pretty bad shape." He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Now, my question is who are _you_?"

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. After a few moments she whispered, "My name is Reese. That's all I know." She covered her mouth with a hand and looked up at the ceiling. "I can't remember anything," she gasped.

Before she could lose herself to hysterics, Jarod reached out and grabbed one of her hands and covered it with both of his. He held it firmly while whispering, "Hey." He gently tugged on her hand to capture her attention. "It's okay that you can't remember. In fact, it's perfectly normal to be having amnesiac tendencies after a traumatic experience such as yours. It'll all come back in time. Trust me."

__

Trust me. . . The words echoed in Reese's mind. If only he knew that she was playing him. Could she ever trust one person fully? Fully enough to tell them the entire truth? 

~*~

__

To be honest, Jarod Crane was purely a mistake, an unplanned variable. I'd never intended to meet him, especially under these circumstances. How was I to know who's door I was knocking on? And I certainly didn't know he'd play hero and try to save my sorry ass. To tell the truth, I didn't deserve to be saved in the first place. But he thought I did. And I guess that's all that matters.

~*~

Kate bit her lip and let the back of her head rest against the metal wall. She whispered, "What are we going to do, John?" The only sound that could be heard was the inconstant rhythm of drops of water hitting the floor.

John let out a breath and dropped his head. "I don't know, Kate."

"Why did she do it?"

"Because," he spat out quietly, "she's too damned much like me." John looked his wife in the eyes. "She never accepted her fate, just like I never wanted to accept mine. And now she's going to try and change it, just like I did."

A soldier entered the room and saluted curtly before standing at attention. Both John and Kate stood straight and waited expectantly. The messenger looked down before saying, "We've found one record, sir."

After discovering that Reese had sent herself back in time, John ordered his best techs to hack into Skynet's mainframe for anything on a female named Reese Connor. 

"A blood-DNA match showed up in the records of a hospital just outside of Los Angeles. It's Reese, sir. She was treated for multiple lacerations to the left side of her body on December 19, 1999 and was released the next day. That's it, sir."

John nodded and said, "Thank you, Mason. You may take your leave." After the soldier departed, John ran his hand through his hair. But before he could relax, Mason re-entered the room, this time with an urgency.

"Sir, we've found one more record! A newspaper article from March 2000 says that a woman bearing the name Reese Connor was brutally gunned down during an attempted robbery. Suspect was never found."

John met Mason's eyes, shaking his head. "I don't buy the robbery. Too convenient." Then he paused all movement. "She was targeted for termination."

"Why?" Kate asked, speaking for the first time in minutes. John looked at her.

"I don't know. But she must have done something important for the Machines to take notice. Someone needs to go back, to protect her." He turned his eyes to the soldier in front of them. "Mason, assemble the team leaders. This takes precedent. We need to have a pow-wow." After Mason had left, he whispered to himself, "The fate of the Resistance could very well lie in my daughter's hands. She's just stepped back into the fate she's been running from."

~*~

__

You have to hand it to Jarod. He sure knew how to deal with a basket case. There are times when I feel sorry for the guy. An amnesiac trauma victim suddenly dropped in his lap? Then again, if he only knew what he was getting into. . .

~*~

"Make yourself at home. The fridge is always stocked. Don't be afraid to speak up if you need anything." Jarod paused and scratched his cheek. "Is there anything I've left out?"

"No," Reese answered quietly, "I think that's about it." She attempted a brave smile, but it faltered. Before Jarod could say anything more, she went into the room that had been designated to her and shut the door. 

She momentarily leaned against the heavy wood, closing her eyes, before moving to the window. This world wasn't what she expected. It was more. She hadn't even been in it for a full 24 hours, and she loved it. There was grass, and it was such a vibrant green that it made her eyes hurt. She could see the sun, and the blue hue of the sky. Life was all around her. Here, there was no war, no suffering. And no Machines.

She walked over to the bed and pressed on it with tentative fingers. It was soft; softer than she'd ever imagined a bed would be. She bit her lip in indecision. Then she faced the wall, lifted her arms, and let herself fall backward. The result was delightful. She flopped and bounced on the bed, giggling all the while. She even got to her feet and began jumping, performing an action only heard of in stories in her time. 

She heard a knock on the door while in mid-jump. Instead of landing on her feet, she moved her legs directly in front of her and landed on her bottom. "Yes?" she called out, still bouncing slightly.

Jarod peeked his head in and asked, "Are you alright in here?"

Reese grinned sheepishly, bringing a smile to his face. She replied, "Yes. I'm fine."

"Good," he said, opening the door wider, "because I have a question. Are you up to shopping?"

~*~

__

I don't regret sending myself back. I never have. It was the best decision in my life, I believe. There are so many experiences that I was cheated out of. And I was finally getting to go through them. I felt like a kid again. It felt wonderful. I felt alive for the first time.

~*~

"We have to do something to save Reese's life. It's imperative that we do so," John addressed the committee he'd assembled. "It's my belief that she was targeted for termination. I don't know what she did to call attention to herself, but it had to be something big. Something important to the cause of the Resistance."

"And what do you propose we do?" asked one member, a robust man in his prime. "We can't send you back. We can't spare you."

"What about the prototype?" another member spoke up. 

John sighed and rubbed his face. "But it is only a prototype. We can't predict what it will or won't do. It could change missions and kill her, for all we know," he said quietly. 

"I think it's ready," Kate said, causing silence to fall over the room. She looked at each of the members before continuing. "I've been working hard on it, and I believe that it's ready."

"Kate," John interjected.

"Don't 'Kate' me!" she shouted. She took a few deep breaths. "This is our _daughter_, John! And now, it seems she's the key to all of this!" She brushed her hair out of her face. "It's our only hope."

A silent stand-off occurred between the two of them for about a minute. Then, John sighed defeatedly, "Send it." He sat down in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "I hope to God this works."

~*~

__

Shopping? I'd never been shopping in my entire life. All of my clothes were either hand-me-downs or handmade. I didn't really know what to expect. I was scared, but there was an excitement to it as well. I was ready to meet life head-on.

~*~

Reese looked slightly overwhelmed with the heaps of clothing folded in her arms. She turned to Jarod with a silent cry for help. He only chuckled, which caused her to become a bit irritated. He grabbed two more shirts off a nearby rack and said, "There's a dressing room. Now you go and try all this stuff on." She shot him a look that said she wasn't impressed. "What?" he asked. "This is supposed to be fun for girls."

"Well," she muttered, "I'm not your average girl." Despite her inner argument, she headed for the dressing room and found an empty stall. Once inside, and alone, she took a step back and looked at all the clothing she'd amassed. These outfits were nothing like the garb she wore in her time. They weren't very practical. Or durable. They were downright flimsy compared to the clothing she and her mother used to make. Sighing, she randomly picked out something and began to shed the clothes borrowed from Jarod's sister.

About a half hour later, she emerged from the stall, looking a little frazzled. Jarod, who was sitting just outside the women's dressing area, asked, "So, how did it go?"

Even though she looked about ready to fall flat on her face, she genuinely smiled. "I liked all of them," she murmured. "But they're all way too expensive."

"If you like all of them, then all of them you shall have," he replied in an overly gallant voice. At the immediate shaking of her head, he brought his hands up. "Listen to me, Reese. You showed up at my doorstep without anything on you. You need a wardrobe, not just two or three outfits. Let me do this for you," he pleaded. "It will help my conscience out a whole lot more."

She raised an eyebrow. "Your conscience? Why?"

"I'm a cop," he started, "I'm supposed to serve and protect. Was I protecting you last night?" He left it at that. He looked so down that Reese inexplicably wanted to ease his guilt. She wanted to tell him that there was no way that he could have protected her from what happened, because she brought it on herself. But she couldn't do that. 

Instead, she swallowed her pride and let him take the pile of clothes from her. A thought crossed her mind, and her cheeks burned about bringing it up. But she had to. She cleared her throat and stammered, "Jarod. . .I-I'm going to need. . .other things."

She should have known. Jarod, like all men, was extremely dense. Very innocently, he asked, "What do you need? Ask, and ye shall receive."

"Um. . ." she replied, her voice beginning to trail off, "well. . .you know, _other_ things." She cleared her throat again. "Feminine things."

"Oh," he answered casually. Then Reese could see what she had just said register in his brain on his face as he repeated, "_Oh_." He cleared his throat as well and quickly said, "Here's a fifty." He handed her the bill, then said in a voice deeper and stronger than normal, "I think I'll go to the sporting goods store. See what kind of guns they have." He paid for her clothes and escaped. 

Reese stifled a giggle as she gathered her bags and headed for the intimate apparel section of the store.

~*~

__

My father is a very smart man; that much is obvious. If he weren't, the human race wouldn't have stood a chance. So, I know he did what he did for a reason. And, I guess, it was important for me to know the truth. But sometimes, I wish I'd never known.

~*~

This sort of phenomenon occurring twice within the space of a week was, well, odd. The air became extremely dense, almost expectant. The wind began to blow, just like before. Cacti, the sentinels of the desert, began to bend with the force. Multiple blinding tongues of electricity lashed out and a sphere expanded on the ground. Just like before, the sphere burst, and yet another desert shrubbery became a casualty to the resulting blast of flame. 

In its wake kneeled a massive, naked man. He slowly and smoothly stood up, surveying the surrounding landscape with eyes of a shark. He turned on his heel and began to walk, the sand-turned-glass crunching underneath his feet. He didn't even flinch.

He approached a seedy bar in the middle of nowhere. Without breaking his purposeful, powerful stride, he pushed the door open and entered. He immediately began to scan the patrons of the bar for possible clothing matches. 

The song that had been blaring on the jukebox ended, but nothing came on to replace it. Similarly, the bar had become silent as all inside took in the nude stranger. Some women fanned themselves. A waitress, not paying attention, ran right into him and spilled whatever she was carrying. The man slowly looked down at what was blocking his path. The waitress, wide-eyed, mumbled a quick apology and moved out of the way. 

"What the hell do you want, you freak?" asked a man who didn't seem to know he was getting too old to hang with the partying crowd. The naked man scanned him from head to toe. A perfect match.

"I will require your clothes," he said in a monotone. This seemed to be very funny to the older man. He laughed, but slowly became serious when the Colossus before him inched closer. "Now."

Now looking very bad-ass in black leather, he walked out of the bar and headed directly to a small foreign convertible. Having no need to break a window, he simply opened the door. He opened the visor, but no keys slid out. He moved his arms into the correct position for breaking open the steering column, but noticed that the keys were still in the ignition. He cocked his head, then turned the key. He didn't seem to let off of the gas pedal as he peeled out of the parking lot and headed for LA.

~*~

To Be Continued. . .


	3. Uncharted Waters

. . .But What We Make

by Bethe

~*~

Okay, this is going to be my first author's note for this piece, but I want to establish a little timeline, of sorts. After seeing T3 today (for the third time), I've realized that the movie has seriously messed with the canon of the two previous films. That has made finding a reasonable timeline and age for Reese extremely difficult. At the beginning of T3, John says that the T-1000 was sent back to kill him when he was 13. That would make the setting of T2 1997, which would be feasible, making T3 be set in at least 2007. However, there is the whole Sarah issue to deal with. He says that she lived three years after being diagnosed, which would make T2 now be set in 1994, and that would make John 10 instead of the previously mentioned 13. Which is right? I suppose we might never know. So, for this fic, I've taken a couple of liberties with dates. Since John never gave an exact number of how many years had passed since he and his mother had shut down Cyberdyne (only "a little over ten years"), I'm going to say that Judgment Day happened in the year 2007. We were never given an exact day in T3, so I will probably just make one up. Now, another question is since Judgment Day was postponed, does that mean that all of the events in the future are postponed as well? Meaning, is the year that all of the Terminators get sent back still 2029? Or some later date? And if so, would the resistance be as close to destroying Skynet as they were in the previous timelines? It certainly can cause one to go insane just thinking about it. It's not a huge problem, but it is something I want to get right and have it be consistent throughout the fic, unlike _other_ people (*glares at the screenwriters for T3). This will also come into play for the age of Reese Connor, and other characters. If anyone has any insight on all of this, could you please send me an email? My address is airhead_1984@hotmail.com. Or you could just send a review, and it will get to my email anyway. Sorry this note was so long. And now, here's the next part of the story.

~*~

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How does that old saying go? Time flies when you're having fun? Cliché, but true. Jarod, my unplanned mistake, proved to be the best decision I'd ever made. He showed me about life, how to live. I was learning so much from him. And then the future had to butt in.

~*~

Reese took a swig from her water bottle and dropped a folder on the sofa. She picked up the TV remote and pressed a button, eager to catch up on her favorite show. Somewhere, far off, she heard a dog barking wildly, but it never registered in her mind. 

She sighed in disappointment to find her show had been pre-empted by a college basketball game. It seemed March Madness was all anyone could ever think about. She turned the set off and walked into the kitchen, water bottle in hand. She opened the refrigerator door and searched until she found a Granny Smith apple. Then she closed the door, but jumped and screamed at the huge man that had materialized out of nowhere behind it. 

"Reese Connor, you must come with me," he said simply in a heavily accented voice. Reese placed a hand to her chest as if the action could calm her racing heart. A confused expression affixed itself to her face before understanding finally dawned.

"No," she whispered firmly. "I have a life here, and I'll be damned if I let you ruin it for me."

The Terminator in front of her remained in his position. His expression did not change. He did not blink. He stated monotonously, "You will cease to even have that life if you do not come with me." 

Reese stamped at the floor indignantly. "Tell me why."

"Because," the T-101 explained, "in 24 hours, you will be terminated. My mission is to make sure you stay alive. You come with me." With that, he hefted the young woman into a fireman's carry as if she weighed little more than paper. 

"Put me down!" she screamed while pounding his back. He paused, then unceremoniously dropped her on the hard tile floor. She sat up and rubbed the back of her head. "You don't just pick people up like that!" she barked. "I'll go willingly. Just let me leave a note to Jarod." She picked up a pen and fished around for a blank sheet of paper. "Nothing specific," she called out, not even looking at him, as if she'd read his mind. "Just that I have to leave, and I'll be back."

When she'd finished writing the vaguely brief note, she turned back to the machine. She could see a slight smirk beginning to materialize on his face and she said, "Don't say a word."

~*~

__

Although I'd never seen an activated T-101 before, the Machine's sudden appearance in my life roused all kinds of emotions. Although it was not the same Machine that had been sent back to save my father, stories and anecdotes that he had told me so many years ago came to mind just watching it. I felt overwhelmed, and finally understood what Dad had felt for so long. The future was interfering. What could I have done, or what could I do, that would cause this? I felt as if past and future were about to meet in a head-on collision, resulting a terrifyingly real present. And there was nothing I could do.

~*~

****

"Do you think we'll know the outcome immediately?" Kate asked quietly in the privacy of her and John's bedroom.

"Probably not," he replied, just as quiet. "This is a very different situation we're in. The moment I sent my fa. . .Kyle Reese back, I was still alive. The same for when I was a boy. On Judgment Day, I was already dead. But now, this still involves the future. Uncharted waters," he finished in a whisper, finally turning his eyes to his wife. 

In that moment, Kate could see the frightened young man that he had been almost 20 years ago. She had been attracted to him, that much was for sure. But their relationship had been built more on need and a trust in fate than on love. And over the past couple of years, that relationship had started to suffer. They fought more often. Spiteful barbs came out of their mouths far easier than kind words of affection or encouragement. They both were being strained by the pressuring expectations of the surviving humanity. But in that moment, Kate felt genuine love for John Connor.

Without saying a word, she walked across the room and sat beside him on the bed. Looking in his eyes, she could see not one haunted soul, but billions. She lifted a trembling hand and ran a finger down the craggy scar on his left cheek. A tear slid down her face as she offered a tremulous smile. 

John closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, allowing himself to truly enjoy it for the first time. A shaky sigh escaped his lips before he took her into his arms and held her there tightly. Then he leaned back and wiped the tear-matted hair from her face while searching her eyes. When he found what he was looking for, he whispered, "I love you, Kate."

Before she could reply, he pulled her to him and tenderly kissed her. During their 22 years of marriage, they had committed the conjugal act only for the purpose of conceiving their children. But that night, in that same bed, they slowly made love for the first time, finally sealing the eternal bond between their souls. 

~*~

__

The world had an eerie quality to it. I'd removed my rose-colored glasses and was finally seeing it like it was. I was surrounding by walking ghosts, nothing more. For every living breathing human being, there was a matching skeleton in my nightmares. Buildings that stood tall at the same time were merely ruins on the gray earth. It was like I had double vision. In one eye I could see the world as it was then. In the other, I saw what was to come. It's truly haunting to know the fate of the world. 

~*~

"So, are you going to tell me what it is I do that makes me a target?" Reese asked while looking out the car window at the passing landscape. She swung her head around and stared at the Terminator until he answered.

"In July of 2000, you make contact with Robert Brewster, your grandfather, and attempt to tell him what will happen with Skynet. You try to persuade him that it is all real, and show him the barcode on your arm that was given to you in the Machines' Death Camp. He doesn't believe you. However, he does give you vital information on how to destroy Skynet. Just in case. You keep those documents until April 28th, 2007, when you and your daughter go--"

"Wait a minute," Reese interrupted. "Daughter? I'm not even pregnant."

"On the contrary," he said, "You are eight and a half months into your pregnancy."

"What?" she shouted. "How is that possible? Don't you think I would know something like that?"

"The women who were born and grew up before the nuclear war had a menstrual cycle every month. Since that ceases when one becomes pregnant, the woman would obviously know if something like that occurred. However, women after Judgment Day were either exposed to residual radiation or could not maintain a healthy diet, so your molecular structure evolved and women now only have one menstrual cycle a year. Also, women used to gain a great deal of weight and experience certain hormone changes. Now, the weight gain is a fraction of what it used to be, and most of it occurs in the last month. Hormone changes are minimal."

Reese scoffed. "So what you're saying is that I'm going to have a girl in a couple of weeks?" She said nothing more as her face began to fall.

"You know who the father is?" he asked, but it was more like a statement.

Her eyes dropped to the floorboard. "Yeah," she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. "God, he would have been so excited. We were going to get married. No one knew, of course. And no one would know until after the ceremony. But the day before we were going to go through with it. . ." She worked her jaw to try to keep herself from crying. "He got the call to go topside. He said that he would come back to me. . .but I knew better. If I'm not mistaken, a T-101 killed him. His body was never found."

Silence filled the sports car. 

"Would you like for me to continue?" the Terminator asked, almost quietly. Reese looked at him, then nodded. " You keep those documents until April 28th, 2007, when you and your daughter go to Baja California to warn Sarah Connor of Judgment Day."

"Impossible," she said, this time without feeling. "She's dead." Somehow, however, she knew he was going to contradict her. And she knew it would be true.

"Sarah Connor is alive on April 28th, 2007. A T-101 was sent back from the future with only two missions. One, to administer the cure for leukemia that had been developed by 2029. Two, to order Sarah Connor to terminate it."

"Who sent it?" Reese asked, shaking her head. "There are no reports of anyone using the Time Displacement facility besides my father." The Terminator took his eyes off the road and looked directly at Reese.

"You did."

~*~

To Be Continued. . .


	4. Jack the Machine

. . . But What We Make

by Bethe

~*~

Author's Note: Okay, here's my second note for the series. I probably don't even need it, but just in case. . .

I'm introducing a new "divider" thing. Here's a sort of key so you can follow along so much easier: ~*~ means a change in POV (example, from Reese to Reese's voice-over, from voice-over to John). *** means a memory or dream sequence from one character's POV, usually the same POV in the preceding section. 

Okay. I apologize for those of you who get it upon reading it, but you just have to spell it out for some people. (if you don't, then you get all these annoying emails, and then you have to add to the chapter and reload it, and it just gets tedious.) Thanks and enjoy (I hope).

P.S. I'm so sorry it took me this long to get this chapter out. First, my muses went on strike. Nothing got written. It was chaotic. Then I was in the midst of moving back to college, and I've just now had some time (and inspiration) to get this chapter completed. Here you are (I'm sure you've been foaming at the mouth for it).

~*~

__

The dream is always the same. It's yet another sunny California day, and I'm walking my dog. But my spirits are not high. All around me is beauty, and all I can feel is remorse. Mourning, for they are already dead. The world just didn't get the memo. I look up, and the sky's clarity nearly blinds me. Bright yellow and purple flowers bend in the summer breeze. I can hear children playing in the distance. A family on bikes rides past me, for I've slowed down almost to the point of being stationary. I struggle to keep from crying. I can't let them know. 'Gotta be strong, kiddo,' comes my father's voice somewhere from the depths of my mind. I grit my teeth and keep moving, needing the sense of normalcy on this day; this day which had started so clear, and would end so black. I look up, and a cloud has appeared. Only it's not a cloud. I close my eyes, spread out my arms, and whisper, 'I'm sorry.'

Then the world fades to red.

~*~

Third time's a charm, they say. Not tonight. No stars were out. Not even the moon dared to show itself. So when the bright blue bolts of light that were associated with this sort of phenomenon lashed out, it made all the more stark contrast. 

The events happened just like before, but with one exception. The sphere didn't burst open. It merely melted, leaving less destruction. From the blurry haze stepped a woman. Naked, like the other two that had come before her. Eyes the color of jade slowly took in her surroundings. She blinked, then headed for the city.

~*~

__

It was hard to imagine me doing those things that he said I would do. Then again, it's funny that I haven't thought about Judgment Day, not even once, until he showed up. And suddenly it's like I have apocalyptic vision. It makes me wonder what would happen if he hadn't been sent back. Would I still do these things? Sometimes, I doubt it. Maybe I'm hoping for no fate too much.

I suppose I'll never know.

~*~

"What do you mean, I sent it back?" Reese asked, a disbelieving scowl appearing on her face. The T-101 maintained his firm grip on the wheel and kept his eyes on the road, seemingly scanning for obstacles.

"You felt that Sarah Connor deserved better than to die believing something that wasn't true. So, you stole the leukemia cure from a Resistance lab. Then you activated a T-101 and programmed him to go back to 1997, the day of Sarah's death. He arrived just moments after John Connor had left her side. He revived Sarah Connor and successfully administered the cure. Then he took her to a safe location. When she recovered, she took out his brain chip and destroyed it."

"But that T-101, it was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes." 

Reese frowned in concentration, then asked, "But how can you be here if you were terminated?"

"Sarah Connor was one of the three billion who died on Judgment Day, but I withstood the attack. The Resistance captured me. I was useless, however, without my chip. Katherine Brewster-Connor, remembering the stories from her husband, began working on a new chip, hoping to somehow upgrade me."

"Like a circle. . ." Reese murmured. She stifled a yawn before crossing her arms over her stomach.

"You should rest," he said in an almost soft tone. Reese shook her head.

"I could never sleep in something that was moving," she whispered, feeling a rare pang of homesickness. 

"We must stop anyway," he spoke up after a few moments. "We must acquire a new vehicle." 

Almost as if on cue, the engine began to make a clacking noise. The Terminator, spotting an abandoned warehouse, pulled the car off the road.

Within thirty minutes, they were under the sturdy shelter of the warehouse. Reese was grateful for that. Despite the warm weather during the day, the California night was a force to be reckoned with. It was still cold in the building, but she would rather be a bit chilled than spend one night out there.

She shivered and turned from the window and found a spare tire to sit on. Rubbing her upper arms briskly, she asked, "Did my mom give you a name?"

The Terminator, who had been searching for any kind of heat source for Reese, stood up fully and looked at her. "No," he replied matter-of-factly. "I did not need a name."

Reese sighed. "Well," she said, sounding resigned, "If you're going to pass as human, you're going to need a name."

"Why?"

Reese scoffed. "Aren't you things supposed to be super-intelligent?" she asked. Then she shook her head. "I can't go around calling you 'Term' for short. I don't want to keep using he and him. And I certainly can't call you 'it'. You have to have a name." She was silent for a beat. "No, we're not calling you 'Bob'," she quipped upon seeing the look that had come on his face. 

"Is that not a feasible name?" 

"You're not a Bob," she answered pensively. "Jack. From now on, you answer to Jack," she said after much thought. 

"Jack," the Machine said to himself as if to try the name out. Reese shivered again, and his attention refocused. "I cannot find any blankets for you." He removed his heavy leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "Will this be sufficient?"

Reese offered a smile of thanks and slid her arms through the sleeves. "We'll see," she murmured. "I have more questions."

"Later," the Terminator, renamed Jack, answered abruptly. "You must sleep." Reese shook her head.

"Can't. Too stressed." She smiled softly. "My mom, whenever I would feel worried or sick or scared, and I couldn't sleep, she would do something that soothed my nerves." She bit her lip. "I really miss that right about now," she whispered as a tear rolled down her face. 

"What would she do?" Jack asked.

Reese closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly. "I would rest my head on her knees, and she would just slowly rake her fingers through my hair." She opened her eyes. "But Mom's not here. She's sixteen now, I think." She sighed and shivered once more. 

"Would it help you to sleep?" he asked. Reese bit her lip and glanced warily over at him.

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"You must sleep," he said softly. "You will need to be at your best awareness for the days to come."

Reese sighed once more, an action that was becoming fairly redundant. Then, without a word, she got up and walked over to the Machine. She lay on her side on the cold concrete floor and rested her head on one of his leather-clad knees. After what seemed like a hesitation on Jack's part, he started to slowly brush through her hair with his fingers. She began to relax and she absently noted that his fingers were warm. As she drifted off into sleep, an image of her mother flashed briefly into her mind. Then all was dark.

~*~

__

When it came to my parents, I was always very perceptive. More so than my two other siblings. I guess you could say that Allie and Bobby were stuck in the all-encompassing naivete that existed in the years before puberty made everyone a cynic. I guess I just wasn't the average child. 

I always knew that something wasn't right with Mom and Dad. I mean, Dad was hardly around anyway, off doing his 'savior-of-mankind' shit. But when they were together, something didn't sit right with me. They weren't like other couples I'd seen around. They didn't share meaningful glances, or tender touches. Hell, the only time they spoke civilly was about the war. And even then, it was touch-and-go. 

When I was about thirteen or fourteen it hit me: I've never seen them kiss, even when they thought I wasn't watching. I've never seen them hug, hold hands, or experience the embarrassment of overhearing your parents doing the mattress mambo late at night. Never. 

They didn't love each other. After that startling epiphany, it all made sense. And, I guess I could understand why they didn't love each other, yet they were together. Fate, destiny, whatever, had appointed them to be the two most important people in the coming years, and had appointed them to be together. Who were they to question it? So, they followed the pattern and got married.

Thinking about it, I also realize that they definitely would need someone to care about during those long years of waiting for the rads to go down. I think their relationship was one born mainly out of necessity. It's not like they couldn't stand each other, but love was not there. Merely 'like'. 

What kind of fate is that?

~*~

John Connor was propped up by an elbow and watching his wife sleeping. He rarely saw this side of her since he did most of his sleeping in his office. Her face was washed with the warm light of the fireplace, blurring any sharp lines. She looked like she did before the T-X had intruded on their pseudo-peaceful lives. She looked like an innocent. She was beautiful.

His gaze remained on her face, but his mind traveled elsewhere, back to 1994, namely the day before the world changed.

***

John was pissed. Janelle was really getting on his last nerve. It seemed her mission in life was to bitch and moan at him about his pigsty of a room. What she didn't seem to get was that he liked his shit where it was. In a way, it was symbolic of his life. To an outsider, it was chaos. But to John, it was oddly comforting. 

For an instant, he almost wished he could be back with his real mother. But then he remembered what it had been like to live with Sarah. Every cut, every scratch was cause for worry. Constant earplug usage. GSR so thick on his hands he could feel it before he could even touch his skin. And fear. Constant fear of the unseen and not yet created threat to their very existence. 

He'd take Todd and Janelle over that any day.

That in mind, he cranked his tunes up louder. Axl Rose wailed in that whining voice of his, drowning out Janelle's admonitions. He turned a page in his gaming magazine without even looking up. He sensed, rather than heard, the door close. He glanced up, then at his watch. Leaving his music on, he got out of his bed and put his shoes on. Then he quietly opened his window and crawled out, hitting the grass with a soft thud. 

He arrived at Mike Kripke's house ten minutes late, not like it mattered. People usually didn't show up until about an hour into the party. But John and Mike were buds. He wouldn't mind just hanging out with a good friend for awhile. What he expected to find once he reached the basement was Mike, and maybe another guy they knew. He was to be surprised.

Mike was nowhere in sight, but a vision in white was sitting on the couch, watching the television. She had long auburn hair that spilled over her shoulders as fluid as silk, and it made a stunning contrast with her pure white shirt. She turned her head to see who had entered the room, and John's heart jumped up to his throat. She could quite possibly be the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Her eyes were a rich green. Her lips, full and soft-looking. And her skin glowed like a child's; unblemished. But she definitely wasn't a child. 

"Hi," he managed after clearing his throat multiple times. 

"Hi, John," she replied.

"Do I. . .know you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She smiled, and his heart did one of those annoying leaps again.

"You probably don't know me, but I know you," she said. "I'm Kate. Kate Brewster. We have math with Shelton together."

"The smart chick?" he asked incredulously. "The one who's always in the front?" She nodded somewhat shyly. Before saying anything more, he walked over to the couch and sat down beside her without even asking for permission. "So, what's a classy dame like yourself doing at a party thrown by a dirtbag like Kripke?"

"Well," she began, "this is supposed to be _the_ party. All my friends told me that I couldn't miss it." She looked around. "I don't see any of them here. Besides," she shrugged, "what else is there to do on a Friday night in this town?"

"You do have a point," John said. "Where is Mike anyway?"

"Beer run, I think."

The two were silent for a long time.

"So," John said slowly, "what kind of movies do you like?"

"I'm kind of an indie girl, I guess. Mainstream movies are just too commercial these days. No plot, but lots of action."

"I know what you mean. Hey, have you seen Clerks?"

Kate furrowed her brow. "No. I haven't really heard of it."

"Oh, come on!" John exclaimed with a teasing smile on his face. "You haven't heard of Clerks? It's great. And funny. You should watch it sometime."

During their conversation about the lack of really good movies, people started showing up. Mike came back, liquor in tow, and the party started, but John and Kate were still just talking. At first the party was kind of loud, what with the music and all. But it started to get mellow when people coupled off. Then it was back to John and Kate just talking. When they both noticed how quiet the room had become, they wrapped up their debate on what was better: mayonnaise or Miracle Whip, and looked at their feet. 

Kate blushed softly, and John felt an urging in his heart that was beyond explanation. It felt like he had been put in that situation for no other reason than to kiss her. _Who am I to argue with fate?_ he asked himself, half-jokingly. He slowly leaned forward until their lips met in a kiss that was chaste for a moment, and only a moment. He brought one hand to the back of her head and the other to her shoulder, and he held her to him.

The rest of the night was a blur, but he had a little bounce in his step when it was over.

~*~

To Be Continued. . .


	5. Only Human

. . .But What We Make

by Bethe

~*~

__

Being the only hope of mankind is a tough gig. The weight of the responsibility for millions upon millions of souls wears on you. That's why I ran away from my time. And wouldn't you know? I ran straight back into what I was running from.

~*~

Reese awoke with a start. Then she shook her head and pushed her hair out of her face with sleep-clumsy hands. Almost immediately, her face began to change from the soft innocence it had retained during sleep to the hardened exterior she normally displayed. She then stood up, removed Jack's heavy leather jacket from her shoulders, and handed it back to him. Without saying a word, he put it back on and stood up as well. Then he went to one of the abandoned trucks and began to work on it.

Reese crossed her arms around her waist and walked over to one of the barred windows. She thought, not for the first time, of the gargantuan task which lay before her. She had to convince her grandfather to give her that oh so crucial information about the Machines, and then go find her grandmother and warn her of Judgment Day ahead of time. Not to mention that she had to flee yet another threat that she knew nothing of, warn Jarod of Judgment Day, and have a baby girl. 

Being a hero sucked. 

Letting a hand drift to her abdomen, she turned back to Jack. "Has the other Terminator appeared yet?"

Jack removed his head from beneath the hood of the truck and paused his moments. "It is hard to tell," he replied simply before setting back to work. 

"Does Jarod make it out okay?" she asked.

"Negative," came Jack's reply, slightly muffled because of the barrier between them. "Officer Jarod Crane is terminated before Judgment Day."

"What?" Reese dropped her hands and approached the Machine. "We have to go back and get him," she remarked lowly, almost a command.

"Negative. The other Terminator will anticipate this and arrive at Jarod's residence, killing him, and then taking on his outward appearance to deceive you."

"Shit," Reese breathed. "Another mimetic. What if we beat it there?"

"We cannot take that risk. You must be protected."

Reese planted her hands firmly on her hips and assumed a look of stubborn defiance, much like the one on the face of a young John Connor years ago. "We're going back," she ordered quietly.

Jack the Machine stood up fully and faced her. "We can be there in an hour."

~*~

__

Although I don't like to admit it, I do get scared. I'm only human. Add to the mix an unborn child, and an unknowing man (who just happened to save your life), and I'm terrified. Some great leader I turned out to be.

~*~

Jarod was beginning to get worried.

Reese hadn't shown up at the house the day before, and she'd been gone all night. The note she'd left didn't look very convincing. 

He paced back and forth, trying to determine what his next course of action should be. She was entitled to her own life, by all means, but this kind of disappearance was unlike her (the fact that she most likely had pulled an act like this at least once before never popped into his mind). He wanted to be sure she was safe. He needed that much. 

Eyes, blue this time, not green, with fear and pain glazed over on them, came to mind.

He shook his head to clear the vision and moved to pick up his cell phone. His fingers paused above the keypad, however, at the sound of the back door opening.

"Reese?" he called out tentatively, putting his phone down and heading to the back of the house. He got no answer, so he stopped in the kitchen and opened the drawer that held his spare firearm. He resumed his path slowly while checking the gun at the same time. "Reese?" he called again. 

Jarod approached the corner with his gun pointed at the floor, then raised his gun and entered the next room, checking all possible angles quickly.

"BOO!" came a voice behind him. Jarod jumped, and nearly squeezed the trigger before regaining control and turning around. 

"Damn it, Reese, you scared the life out of me," he breathed, relieved, and embraced her tightly.

"Sorry, roomie," she giggled. "I didn't mean to."

"Where have you been?" he asked her. 

What happened next was almost mind-numbing.

Jarod could barely register the sound of a door being ripped off of its hinges before gunshots rang out and Reese was suddenly riddled with bullets, dropping to the floor. He shouted something unintelligible as he turned sharply on his heel and trained his gun at the intruder.

Suddenly, Reese was pulling at his shoulder (wasn't she supposed to be on the ground, dead?), dragging him towards the exit. A pair of strong hands took him then, and he had just enough time to take in the foreign face before being hauled into a fireman's carry. 

Before his carrier took him outside, he could see Reese lingering in the house, almost hypnotized by the body on the floor.

"My God," she whispered, " She's me."

~*~

__

Poor Jarod. I bet we scared ten years off of his life. But at least he still had that life. I had a much bigger problem on my hands. Why did she look like me?

~*~

"It's me!" she shouted after slamming the door to the truck. She took a few deep breaths and pulled her hair away from her head. "That mimetic-poly-alloy bitch is me!" She pounded the dashboard to accentuate her anger.

The Machine threw the truck into drive and did a donut in Jarod's driveway before fishtailing onto the street. Reese fluidly turned around, snatched the pistol from Jarod's hand, checked the clip, and then faced forward. She muttered a barrage of curses under her breath while flexing her fingers. 

A bullet blasted through the back window, shattering the glass and sending fragments into Reese's skin. Without blinking, she shouted to Jarod, "Duck!" and turned around, squeezing off a few rounds at the source. Jack applied more pressure to the gas pedal, leaving the new Terminator "eating his dust."

He looked at Reese and said calmly, "She's here."

Reese laughed bitterly. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Where's your sidekick, Duh?" she asked breathlessly. 

"I do not have a sidekick," he replied all too innocently with a sideways glance at her, a tiny smirk appearing on his face. 

"I thought Machines weren't supposed to have a sense of humor," she shot back with a smirk of her own.

"Time out!" came a shaky voice from the backseat. "I don't know what the hell just happened, but someone's going to explain. And fast."

Reese turned back to look at Jarod, pity in her eyes. 

"Do you really want to know?"

~*~

To Be Continued. . .


	6. A Glimmer of Hope

. . .But What We Make

by Bethe

~*~

__

Again, I say poor Jarod. His world just got turned upside down without apology, and he was on the run for his life. Even then, I couldn't guarantee that he would live past Judgment Day.

~*~

"When are you going to explain?" Jarod asked as he stepped out of the truck. Reese placed her hands on her lower back and stretched, trying to pop it. She remained silent, but jerked her head toward the motel room. Whatever was coming would have to wait until they were inside.

Once the three of them were inside the room, the Machine went into the bathroom to perform some minor repairs on his body. Reese pulled out a chair for Jarod and for herself. She sat and waited for him to do the same.

"You want to know what's going on, right?" she asked. He nodded. Reese sighed and rubbed her hand down the side of her face. 

"My name is Reese Connor. I was born May 5, 2010--"

"Wait a minute," Jarod interrupted. "How is _that_ possible? That's 10 years away from now."

"Just be patient. I'm getting to it," she snapped. "Now, for this to make sense, you have to throw away all common sense and trust me." She arched her eyebrow and waited for his nod before continuing. "Okay. Like I said before, my name is Reese Connor and I was born on May 5, 2010. Coincidentally, that was when the War Against the Machines began. But let me start in the beginning. In 1984, my grandmother Sarah Connor woke up one ordinary day that would change her life forever."

~*~

__

Sometimes I wonder what this was doing to my family back home; back in my when. Even as I was explaining the troubled past, unsure present, and murky future to Jarod, I had a hard time grasping that it was really happening. Harder still was trying to imagine how Dad was handling it.

~*~

John said a goodbye to Katherine before putting on his combat helmet and leaving the compound with his detachment. His oldest was still in the past and still in danger, but he still had a job to do.

Even though it was dark outside, a little light peeked out from behind the thick cloud in the sky. It kindled a new kind of hope in the hearts of the soldiers. If light was starting to show through, what could be next? Maybe a substantial victory against the Machines?

It was only a matter of time, John knew. He had been told the ending so many times that it was ingrained into his memory, almost as if it had already happened. They would win, to be sure. The problem was that John didn't know how many would die before that reality was realized. That was what kept him up at night.

How much longer did they have?

~*~

__

How do you explain something that is history for you, but hasn't happened yet for the other person? This situation never showed up in the worst-case scenario manual. I understood how absurd I sounded as I went on, but he had to know why he was now with us. . . if at least for his own temporary survival.

~*~

"How can I trust you?" Jarod asked incredulously once her recounting of history was finished. "You've already lied to me about your amnesia, and now you're telling me about all this stuff that hasn't happened yet."

Reese kept her eyes trained on his and called out, "Jack!" Almost immediately, he exited the bathroom and stood beside her. She then looked up into the Machine's face. "Show him," she ordered quietly.

He didn't need further explanation. He pulled out an Exact-O Knife from his jacket pocket and then took off his jacket. Without hesitation he brought the knife to his bare arm and began to drag it around his forearm.

"Holy shit!" Jarod exclaimed, jumping out of his chair and moving behind it. He watched speechless as the gigantic thing before him cut the skin off of his arm without even flinching. And then, just as nonchalant as when he was cutting, he pulled off his forearm skin as if it were a winter glove. Then he saw: instead of bone was a metal framework that resembled the toy arms they sold in stores. Only this framework whirred and clicked as its fingers moved, and trickles of blood clung to it.

Reese crossed her arms and watched Jarod's face. A kind of pity filled her eyes. This wasn't fair; not to Jarod, not to Reese, and not to the rest of mankind. But most times, life just wasn't fair. 

"What are you?" Jarod asked. Reese wasn't sure who he was addressing. The most likely answer was he was addressing both of them. She looked at the floor.

"I am a Terminator; 101 model, 850 series. I was created for the purpose of being an assassin."

Jack went on, but Reese stopped listening. She'd heard it far too many times. She could hear thunder in the background. It was going to rain. Her mind would have progressed further, but a fluttering sensation caused her to pause. She bit her lip and brought a hand to her abdomen; slow, so as not to draw any attention. She moved her hand around until she felt it again. The world seemed to stop, and her own breathing sounded very loud to her ears. That was her baby; her little girl. 

She looked up, blinked once, and turned her head to Jack. He sent a brief glance her way as well, holding her eyes with his for only a few seconds. He continued his story all the while. He didn't even stop when Reese got up from the table. 

She returned a few moments later, when he was finished. She looked at the two at the table. She held out her hand in front of Jack. As if he was reading her mind, he dug the truck's keys from his jacket pocket and tossed them to Reese. She caught them without even looking at them. Instead, her eyes were on Jarod. She took a breath before saying, "I'm going to go get some food from that shop I saw a few blocks back." Then she looked to Jack. "If I'm not back in an hour, get him to a safe place, then go to my grandmother's and have her terminate you. Got it?"

"Yes," the Machine said. "We will be fine."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the motel room into the rain. Once in the truck, she put the keys in the ignition but did not start it. She let more than a few tears fall before she went on her way.

~*~

__

I had my final proof. The Machine had been right. After the girl made her presence known, I knew it was only a matter of time before she joined us here in the world. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do. We would definitely be hindered by a baby, and I knew I could not put her in harm's way. I would have to die first before anyone would touch my daughter. What was a mother to do?

~*~

Kate shivered as she walked down the corridor. Part of being the wife of a military leader was to visit and encourage the families of the troops, and she was very good at it. Most of the women here would fight if only John would let them. But the human race was endangered enough as it was. The women were needed to procreate. Kate knew John was hoping for a baby boom similar to that of the middle of the 20th century, but it was unlikely. Some of the women had experience severe radiation poisoning. Many of the younger ones had been born sterile. The statistics were the same for the men, if not larger. Kate and her team of scientists were working on fertility treatments. Only one had been successful, and only once. The outlook for mankind was bleak. But Kate still held out hope. She had to.

"Mrs. Kate!" called out a voice to her left. Kate smiled at the familiar nickname that had been given to her. The soldiers could not call her 'Mrs. Connor' because that still carried connotations of Sarah Connor. Kate wouldn't allow it. Sarah was twice the woman she'd ever be. 'Mrs. Brewster' didn't seem right because it separated her from her husband, something she didn't want. One day, someone blurted out 'Mrs. Kate' and it stuck. Kate would have preferred 'Kate', but everyone here insisted on a more respectful title.

"Hello, Rita," she answered as she turned. She gave the woman a hug. "Are you feeling better?"

"Only as can be expected for an old woman like myself," Rita answered with a smile. "But don't you worry about me. I can take care of myself. I heard about Miss Reese," she said in a solemn tone. "The lot of us are hoping for her to have a safe return back to home sweet home. How are you holding up?" she asked.

Kate took a breath before answering. "We're doing fine, considering the circumstances."

"Maybe you misunderstood me, Mrs. Kate. How are _you_ holding up?" 

Kate sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm losing sleep. I can't eat; I'm just not hungry anymore. Allie and Bobby try their best to get me to notice them, but I never do. And now, with John topside, it's even worse." A tear slid down her cheek, which she brushed away. 

Rita placed her hands on Kate's upper arms and waited until Kate was looking at her. "I know how special Reese is to you. I had children once. But she's a woman now and can take care of herself. She's out on her own. You have to respect that. However, Bobby and Allie are still here, and they still need you. They're just as special, and you need to show them that. Now, I'm not saying you need to forget Reese and move on. But the situation is out of your hands, and has to play itself out. When you keep that in mind, then you'll find yourself sleeping again, feeling hungry again, and taking more notice of your kids again." The ancient woman smiled. "I promise."

Kate smiled even as more tears fell down her cheeks. Rita smiled again and took Kate into her arms in the most motherly fashion that was possible.

~*~

__

The shopping trip helped me clear my head. I couldn't let Jarod know about my pregnancy. Not yet, anyway. He wouldn't believe me if I told him. It was best to let him process the wealth of information he had just received. He would know, in time.

~*~

Reese walked into the room and closed the door with her foot. She took the bags to the kitchenette counter and set them down. Water dripped from her hair onto the floor, but she didn't give it any attention. She reached into one of the bags with both hands and pulled out two jugs of water when she felt someone at her side. Jarod, without a word, dug into the bag himself and started putting the groceries away. 

Once the task was finished, he took the bags and threw them away. He then turned to her, grabbed a lock of hair and said, "You're soaked." He let the hair go. "I'll go get you a towel."

"Always taking care of me," she murmured after he'd handed it to her. She began to rub her hair dry. Jarod sat down on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry that I lied to you." Reese's movements paused. "My original plans didn't include you taking me in, but after I'd gotten out of the hospital, I felt overwhelmed. Plus, I felt indebted to you. So, again, I'm sorry I lied. But would you have believed me if I'd told you the truth?"

Jarod looked up at her, then shook his head. "No, I don't think I would have. I'm still not sure I believe it." He paused for a moment. "You don't owe me anything, Reese. I did what I did because I wanted to."

The two regarded each other in silence. Reese raised her eyebrow. "Why did you take me in? I was a stranger; maybe even a homeless person who planned to steal from you later. Why?"

Jarod ran both hands through his hair and sighed. His hair stuck up like a boy's would, but his face was that of a weary, older man. Then he let out a soft laugh that was almost incredulous. "Remember those clothes I let you borrow the day after you got back from the hospital?"

"Yes," Reese said, her brow furrowed. "You said they were your sister's."

"Yeah," he whispered, "my sister. She died five years ago. She was living with me at the time." He rubbed his face and closed his eyes. "She had left the house that day. Told me not to expect her back until really late. And I locked the doors before going to bed," he said, sounding like he was disgusted with himself. "I got up the next morning and went outside to see if the paper had been dropped off, but found her body instead. Naked. Battered. Her eyes were open; they'd glazed over. She looked so afraid, Reese," he whispered. "If. . .if I hadn't locked the door, maybe she would have made it in, and I could have saved her."

Reese dropped the towel and moved toward him. "Jarod," she whispered and took his hands in hers. "I'm so sorry. Jarod." She captured his cheek with her hand and made him look at her. "Odds are she was dead when she was dumped there. There was nothing more you could have done." 

"You look a lot like her," he whispered, "except for the eyes. I needed. . .I needed closure. I needed to make sure you would be okay." He leaned his face into her palm. "I wanted her back."

Reese pulled away. "Is that all I am to you, Jarod? A replacement sister?"

Jarod thought on this for a few moments before grabbing her hands. "No. You're Reese Connor: my good friend."

Reese smiled. "Good. Come with me." She pulled at his hands and led him to the kitchenette. She began pulling out various items from the cabinets.

"Why, what are we doing?"

"I'm going to show you how to make a pipe bomb."

~*~

To Be Continued. . .

__


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